


Saving My Words

by BuckyVaRog



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, I dont know how to tag this one, M/M, Sad, sorta kinda fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6238414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyVaRog/pseuds/BuckyVaRog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the poem The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniels</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving My Words

The Quiet World -- Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look  
into each other's eyes more,   
and also to appease the mutes,   
the government has decided  
to allot each person exactly one hundred  
and sixty-seven words, per day.  
  
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear  
without saying hello. In the restaurant  
I point at chicken noodle soup.  
I am adjusting well to the new way.  
  
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,   
proudly say _I only used fifty-nine today._  
_I saved the rest for you._  
  
When she doesn't respond,   
I know she's used up all her words,   
so I slowly whisper _I love you_  
thirty-two and a third times.  
After that, we just sit on the line  
and listen to each other breathe.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arthur’s walking home when his phone rings. It’s been a long workday; all his words used up. He knows it’s Eames without looking at the caller ID, and wants to say ‘Hello, I love you, I’m going to rant to you about my idiot of a boss and shitty coworkers and complain about how much I miss you’.

Of course, he can’t.

“I saved my words for you, darling.” Chimes Eames’ soft voice, breathy and calm. Arthur sighs in relief at the familiar sound. He’s unlocking his door when Eames must realize he has no words left.

“Well seeing as I have…” He’s quiet while mentally counting. Math never was his strong suit. The thought makes Arthur smile a bit as he keeps the phone to his ear and peels his coat off. “One hundred fifty-five words left I’ll tell you about my day. Yusuf is driving me up the wall. Mombasa’s too hot. I’m still wearing those garish suits you hate.” Arthur can hear the smile in Eames’ voice and snorts quietly as he strips completely out of his button up, hanging it neatly on the back of a chair, and black trousers. He’s left in a tank top and tight boxers, which he also shucks off before climbing into bed.

It doesn’t smell like Eames anymore but he sometimes likes to pretend it does, burying the side of his face into what would be Eames’ pillow and listening as his lover prattles off useless things about the job he’s working. Arthur’s been counting the words; he can tell Eames has been too. When the other man is down to forty-seven he goes quiet.

“I miss you so much, Arthur.” He sounds so melancholy Arthur almost says something back before catching himself, instead making a distressed sound in the back of his throat, hoping Eames understands. “Promise I’ll be there soon, two weeks at most.” He’s conserving words, still adapting to the new way of life. “I love you,” He whispers it nine and two thirds more times before he’s run out of words. Arthur sniffles because he wants to say it back, wants to let him know he didn’t use his words without purpose. That he would have saved them if he could have. He wipes his face on Eames’ pillow, leaving wet spots from his tears before settling in more comfortably with a large sigh.

He can hear an old Moby album, _Hotel: Ambient_ , playing in the background of Eames’ heavy breathing. He must have fallen asleep. Arthur keeps the phone pressed to his cheek and lets himself drift off, pretending his friend is there with him.


End file.
